


Nia

by MrProphet



Category: The Snow Spider - Jenny Nimmo
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-21
Updated: 2017-04-21
Packaged: 2018-10-22 08:54:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10693650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrProphet/pseuds/MrProphet





	1. Otherworldly

Nia Lloyd was bothered by Gwyn Griffiths of late. It had begun about six months ago, not long after Catrin and Evan’s wedding. Once they were actually married, Gwyn had felt he had to stop mooning around after Nia’s beautiful sister, and Nia likewise that she should at last acknowledge Catrin’s claim on their handsome cousin – although she knew that she would always be closer to him in some ways than anyone else ever could be.

Nia had felt no real need to immediately replace Evan in her affections and certainly not with a certain dark-haired magician, but Gwyn was of a different temperament. Perhaps it was because he was a boy, or perhaps because he was older; almost sixteen as he always insisted on announcing to the world. Whatever the reason, he had no sooner accepted that Catrin was out of his reach than he began casting huge eyes at Nia.

She might have thought that she was imagining it, at least until Arianwen began weaving Nia’s face into her frost-rimed webs.

So that bothered her, because it was annoying and sort of obsessive. But then Gwyn stopped chasing after her, and that bothered Nia in a whole new set of ways.

“Where does he go after school now?” she asked her brother.

Alun shrugged. “I dunno; I’m only his best friend, aren’t I? What would he tell me for?”

That was more or less the answer she got from anyone she asked. Gwyn’s parents told her that he was going out onto the mountainside a lot; it worried them, they said, but he was a growing boy and needed his space. Ivor Griffiths added that he thought there might be a girl involved but Glenys chided him and said that she thought if Gwyn had a girl she’d be a nice, grounded sort of lass and not the sort to wonder about the mountains and never call on a body’s parents.

As she walked across to Nain’s cottage, Nia pondered that. Gwyn had once told her – in the more comfortable days when they were just friends – that a part of his magical heritage was a price; that being a magician meant that he would always be alone. It was something else that had bothered her, because it was bad enough having him moon around after her, without the whole thing being a colossal waste of time as well. It didn’t seem to her that Gwyn’s mother was right; Gwyn would not want a grounded girl at all. Then again, she had never seen herself as exactly the solid and steadfast type, which was no doubt Glenys’s implication. That would better describe her sister Nerys, and Gwyn definitely wasn’t interested in her.

Nain was working in her garden, in the shade of a great length of dark green cloth – another of the old woman’s incredible dresses in the making, no doubt – when Nia arrived.

“Oh, yes,” she agreed, when Nia asked about the dress. “For Gwydion’s sixteenth birthday; quite the occasion. You’ll be coming to the family celebration, I shouldn’t wonder.”

“Hmm,” Nia replied.

“Nia bach; what is it?” Nain asked. “Surely he’s asked you to come?”

“He hasn’t mentioned it,” Nia admitted. “We don’t talk much anymore.”

“Do you not, now?” Nain sat down at a small, iron table under the apple tree and pursed her face in concern. “And not a month ago there’s nothing more he’s talking about.”

Nia blushed. “Well, he hasn’t talked to anyone much this past two weeks. No-one seems to know where he goes when he’s not at home, except that he goes up into the mountains. Do you think…”

“Eirlys?” Nain asked, almost reading Nia’s thoughts. “I don’t think so. A sister can distract a boy of eleven from almost anything, but at sixteen his thoughts will lead him… elsewhere.” The old woman winked at Nia, who blushed.

“You must find him, girl,” Nain decided. “All this introspection is unnatural.”

“Nothing could be more natural to Gwyn than introspection,” Nia argued.

“Maybe, but in the mountains? He doesn’t trust those mountains, and you know why. What could make him go up there so often and alone?”

“Ivor says he’s got a girl,” Nia offered.

“Pah! Of course he’s got a girl; he’s got you.”

Nia’s blush deepened. “He hasn’t exactly… I mean, we haven’t said anything.” She shook her head. “Anyway, just lately he doesn’t even seem to like me. It’s like I suddenly stopped existing; me and everyone else he knows.”

“Stopped existing, you say?” Nain asked. “Ah, that’s bad, Nia bach; very bad.”

“Is it?”

“Oh, the worst,” Nain agreed. “Tell me, Nia Lloyd, do you love my grandson?”

Nia squirmed a little in her chair. “I’m fourteen,” she reminded the old lady, but when Nain’s dark eye stayed fixed on her she admitted. “Maybe. Little bit. Not, in love or anything, but…”

“Ah, that’s all I ask,” Nain assured her. “It’s just that it could be dangerous,” she explained. “You see, there’s a danger which faces any gifted mortal; that of attracting unwanted attention from the immortal. Eirlys already tried to claim Gwyn once; I’d hazard that another being from the other place now seeks to bring him across, and you are his only hope.”

“But why me?” Nia asked.

“Because he cares for you, Nia,” Nain replied. “More than he does for anyone else, unless I miss my guess. Only you will be able to reach him and persuade him to stay, and quickly,” she added, “before he’s lost to us forever.”

“I’ll do it,” Nia declared, although the idea of facing down a being from Gwyn’s other world chilled her to the bone. “Tell me what to do and I’ll do whatever I can to bring Gwyn back; I promise.”

Nain smiled. “I know you will, bach. I know you will.”


	2. Hero

Nia Lloyd climbed the mountain in the teeth of a howling gale. She pulled her coat tight around her and forged on, determined to reach the summit. The wind raged, shrieking threats in her ears and the chill seemed to cut through to her soul. Despair tore at her and she dug a hand into her pocket to grip the rowan sprig.

 _That’s strong magic, Nia bach,_  Nain had told her.  _Protection for the soul._

“Gwyn,” Nia groaned, “I’m coming.”

The wind swirled and something brushed Nia’s face; a fine mesh of delicate threads. Nia put up a hand to wipe away the cobweb and something cold scuttled over her wrist. She stifled a cry as she recognised the intricate pattering on the spider’s back. “Arianwen.”

The snow spider scuttled up her arm and nestled in the hollow of her throat. Her touch was cold, but somehow comforting, and Nia knew that Arianwen had come to help her; that the snow spider was as worried about Gwyn as she was. With that chill at her throat, the wind seemed to bite less deeply and she pressed on through the gale.

As she entered the dale, the wind dropped and the temperature rose. She was still some distance below the summit, but she knew this must be the place. She blinked the tears from her streaming eyes and then she saw them.

Gwyn stood in the heart of the dell and he was singing. Nia had never heard him sing that way – had never heard  _anyone_  sing that way – but she knew that he was singing up the wind. It was Gwyn’s magic that had summoned the weather against her and he was doing it all for the amusement of the girl who sat in front of him.

The girl was beautiful; so beautiful it was painful to look at her and more painful still to look away. She cast even Catrin – Nia’s older sister and the focus of Gwyn’s affections before her marriage to cousin Evan – into the shade. Having seen her once, Nia felt that she could never think any other woman more than plain. For a moment she actually felt ashamed for trying to take Gwyn away from her, but then Arianwen stirred against her throat and the spell was broken.

“Gwyn!” she called, and his song faltered. “Gwyn, listen to me…” Nia took a step forward.

“Nia!” Nia gaped in amazement as Evan stepped out from behind one of the rocks which scattered the dell. “Best you leave him be, Nia bach,” he said.

Gwyn went back to his song.

“I can’t, Evan,” Nia said. “He needs me.”

“He’s got  _her_ , Nia.” Evan held out his hand. “You come back with me,” he told her, with the kind of smile he usually reserved for Catrin.

“But…”

“Remember what he tried to do to me?” Evan walked over and took her hand. His grip was firm and warm. “He’s better off with his own kind; and so are we. Just the two of us.”

Nia frowned. “What about Catrin?”

“Who?”

Nia glanced down at the hand that held hers. It was Evan’s left hand, but there was no wedding ring on his finger. She ripped her hand from his. “Get out of my way!” she snapped.

“Nia…”

“I don’t know you!” She threw out her hand and pushed at his chest. The cobweb which clung to her hand pulsed with silver light and the image of Evan dissolved.

Nia fixed her gaze on the girl. “Is that the game? Try to distract me?”

The girl turned to face her and a ghost of a smile flashed across her face. Flames leaped up in Nia’s path.

Nia took a step forward, but the heat on her face forced her back. “It’s not real,” she told herself, but it felt real.

Gwyn’s voice rose louder still. Nia closed her eyes and walked forward, holding her hand before her face. She felt the cold of Arianwen’s webs intensify, but the flames still burned. The snow spider scuttled down inside her collar to hide from the heat. She took three steps and the heat was gone, but each step seemed to take forever. 

Nia gasped and stumbled to her knees. 

She opened her eyes. The flames had scorched her skin, she had felt it, but her hands were unmarked now. The threads of Arianwen’s webs were gone, however, and from the way that the spider crouched against her breast, Nia knew that the magical creature had done all that she could to help.

“Gwyn!” Nia called. She forced herself to her feet and stepped forward again. As her foot fell, she felt pain shoot through her body. Another step and there was an ache in every joint. With the next stride, weariness seized her; as she went on, her skin seemed to tighten on her flesh and then loosen. Her hands were wrinkled; shrivelled like old fruit.

“You are in time,” the girl laughed. “It eats at you as it never will at me.” She looked at Gwyn. “Or at him.”

“No,” Nia said, and her voice was a rasp in a worn out throat. “He is not like you; he is like me.” Another step; her hair fell like thistle down around her feet. “He is not yours.” A step; her shin bones cracked. “He is  _mine_.” She fell to her knees and caught herself on her hand, wrenching her shoulder out of its socket.

The girl gave a gloating chuckle. “I almost pity you, you poor, sad little creature. He belongs among the immortals, not with such… fragile things.”

Nia looked up. Her eyes were filmed with milky cataracts, yet she could still see the radiant beauty of the girl like a golden light. She spoke the words that Nain had given to her; she spoke the words in a whisper, knowing that they would be her last.

“Gwydion lives here.”

The girl stood and faced her. “Not anymore.”

The song faltered and stopped. “Gwydion,” Gwyn said.

“Yes, Gwydion,” the girl said. “You are Gwydion Gwyn. Just finish your song and we shall be gone.”

“Gwydion,” he said again.

Nia reached out her shaking hand and Arianwen scuttled to the tips of her fingers.

“No!” The girl’s face twisted in anger. “Get it away!”

“Arianwen!” Gwyn cried, seeming to snap out of his trance. He ran forward and dropped to his knees. His hand touched Nia’s and his eyes widened in horror and recognition. “Nia!” he gasped.

Nia’s heart faltered in her chest, but she couldn’t be sure of it was joy or just the imminent onset of terminal heart failure.

“Gwydion…” The girl stepped forward, but her golden glow was eclipsed as Arianwen lit up like a silver star.

“You heard her,” Gwyn said. “Gwydion lives here. Gwydion will  _always_  live here.”

“You’re mine!” In Arianwen’s light the girl’s inhuman beauty was dulled, but she would still have been lovely had her face not been distorted with an almost-bestial fury.

Gwyn turned to meet Nia’s eyes. “I’m hers,” he said.

Flames roared around Gwyn and Nia, but Arianwen’s glow encircled them like a protective shield. The girl loomed up, huge and terrible. Wreathed in fire, an angel of pure fury, she towered over them.

“ _Alone_!” she screamed. “The magician is always alone!”

Nia squeezed Gwyn’s fingers with a hand that was no longer old. “They say the same about artists,” she assured him. She stood and drew Gwyn up beside her. “We’ll take our chances.”

“I offer you immortality, magician! Perfection!”

Gwyn grinned at Nia, as though he were not standing in the midst of a raging inferno. “What she said,” he agreed. “We’re going now. You won’t stop us.”

Together, they walked from the dell, leaving the flames behind them. When Nia glanced back, there was no sign that the fire had ever been there. The wind had gone, as though it had never been.

“Do I look alright?” Nia asked, lifting her free hand to her face.

“You look… older,” Gwyn told her. “More grown up, I mean,” he added quickly. He kissed her cheek. “You look good.”

Nia blushed and tried to pull away, but found herself unable to. They stopped and looked down, and saw that their hands had been bound together with slender threads of silver spider silk.


End file.
